


King of My Heart

by illiterateowl



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Court Sorcerer Merlin (Merlin), Domestic Fluff, Domestic Merthur, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, King Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), King Merlin (Merlin), Love Confessions, M/M, Magic Husbands, Marriage Proposal, but like, inspired by tumblr post, it's implied - Freeform, just read it, no beta we die like aggravaine, oh my word the fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:09:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28666011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illiterateowl/pseuds/illiterateowl
Summary: Merlin has never desired anything except to be by Arthur's side, in whatever way he wants him. But destiny has other plans, and before Merlin knows it, he is king in all but name. Well, until he isn't.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 53
Kudos: 378





	King of My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> this is in response to a post I saw by @gaylienz on tumblr, who first used the words "Merlin is king in all but name". much love to all the people who encouraged me to write this, and even more love for those who choose to read the whole thing. it really should have been a generally short fic, but it wouldn't be me if I didn't take a short prompt and make it a 9k fic, right? (I'm very tired, so forgive the lack of italics. I don't know when, but I'll add them in eventually. maybe. :') )

King Arthur Pendragon was by far the greatest king the land of Albion had ever known. 

Since his coronation, the land had suffered far less. People were happy under his rule, and with his guidance, together they ushered in a new era of peace and prosperity that had been foretold in the prophecies. 

What those prophecies neglected to mention, however, was just how much the “greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth” had to do with it all. 

Merlin was a man unlike any Arthur had ever met. He was fiercely loyal and kind and gracious, but at the same time powerful and commanding and respectable. He supposed that was why Merlin so easily wormed his way into a position of great respect in Arthur’s eyes. He bore no title besides Court Sorcerer and Dragonlord but whenever Arthur had even a minor concern, he brought it to Merlin. It was something of an unspoken agreement between them: Merlin provided council and emotional support and Arthur provided security, a home, and a place at court. 

The kingdom of Camelot, however, refused to acknowledge the distinction between the two. They were not servant-turned-sorcerer or prince-turned-king but Merlin-and-Arthur: two sides of the same coin, two halves of a whole, two pieces of the same puzzle. It had long since been known to the people of Camelot that Arthur hardly went anywhere without Merlin and that Merlin was hardly ever seen without the blonde royal trailing after him. 

So it was of great surprise to the kingdom when one day, Arthur was missing and Merlin was seen flitting around the castle on his own. Upon finding anyone who dared demand the whereabouts of the King (namely Gwaine and a rather concerned Leon) he was bombarded with questions until he finally let it slip that Arthur was simply taking the day off, at Merlin’s own request. This was news: a king could hardly stop being a king for a day. But Merlin assuaged all of their concern with, “Arthur said if you had any issues, they could be brought to me and I’ll let him know tomorrow. Unless they’re urgent, of course.”

And, as luck would have it, there were many issues that day. 

News spread that concerns were to be brought to Merlin and he was quickly overwhelmed by notes of “We’re running short of grain for the harvest festival” and “The east tower needs repairing, but only with the King’s permission” and “When should the invitations for the winter solstice ball be sent out?” By the end of the day, he felt as though his brain would melt if he had to account for one more noble’s stay in the kingdom and hurried to Arthur’s chambers to deposit his dinner. And complain. 

The door banged open in greeting and Arthur, so used to it by now, didn’t even look up from the book he was reading. Merlin waved a hand and magically dog-eared the page before making it flip closed. 

“Why did you have to choose today of all days to take a holiday?” he demanded, letting the dinner tray clatter to the table. A few stray green beans made a jump for it and he scowled at them. 

Arthur only chuckled, unperturbed by the sorcerer’s mood. “You told me to take a day off. Actually, forced me to. I believe your exact words were, ‘If you don’t stop being king for a day, I will personally see you to the top of the castle and make you hang on a flagpole.’”

Merlin continued scowling as he righted the dinner plate and then scowled some more when he saw Arthur’s boots. “George did a horrible job of polishing these,” he grumbled, and, with a gleam of gold, they were perfectly polished to his standards. George was good at some things, but he didn’t know what Arthur liked. Only Merlin did. “I think your people liked the fact that they didn’t have to come bore you with their problems. Instead, they came and bored me with them. Did you know there was a fight in the lower town today and a young man died? A crying woman came and demanded that I publicly execute the man she thinks started it. I don’t have the authority to do that! I had to listen to her scream and cry for ten minutes for no reason!”

Arthur moved to his dinner plate and began picking at the chicken while Merlin talked. “Well? What did you end up telling her?” he asked, chewing in the least kingly manner he possibly could, just to annoy Merlin some more. Merlin scowled at the display and wondered vaguely if he’d get lines from frowning this much. 

“I told her that fights in the lower town were not my place as a member of the court but that if she would like, we could send some guards to locate the man so she could speak with him. We’d also be happy to move her and her remaining family to another part of town so that she didn’t have to stay near him.”

“Did she like that idea?” Arthur prompted, shoveling potatoes in his mouth. 

“Actually, yes.” Merlin said, thoughtfully, “I managed to convince her that revenge wasn’t the best course of action. She agreed that she could use the closure and then I told her I’d attend her son’s funeral if she wanted.” 

Arthur missed his mouth as he attempted to stick in a forked green bean. “You convinced her not to get revenge for her dead son?” 

Merlin shrugged and turned to go fix Arthur’s bedsheets, absentmindedly resuming his old duties as manservant. “I wasn’t about to let her kill a man when I didn’t even know who started the fight.”

Arthur was silent a moment until he finally said with a cheeky grin, “It sounds like you handled a day in my shoes well. Fancy doing it again?”

“Absolutely not, you boneheaded prat.”

~

Following Arthur’s very short holiday, the word got out that once again, issues could be brought to the king. Many, however, had seen the intelligence and kindness with which Merlin responded to the demands of the kingdom and instead sought him when they had a concern. That was how Merlin found himself constantly rushing around to do this for that person or find out about this for another. He was so busy that when Arthur found him for the first time in two days, he almost choked him when he grabbed Merlin’s neckerchief and jacket from behind to get him to stop mid-run. 

“Merlin!” he barked when Merlin had finished wheezing and cursing, “Where have you been for the past two days?”

“I’ve been-” the warlock swallowed and then adjusted his clothes, “I’ve been doing things. Apparently, everyone thinks I have all the time in the world to discuss minutia.” 

Arthur blinked dumbly at him. “Why are people bringing problems to you?”

Merlin shrugged and began to walk backward to escape the king but Arthur latched onto his wrist. Merlin only glared. 

“See to it that you find time to have dinner with me tonight. I’ve hardly seen you at all lately, now that I think about it.” Perhaps it was Arthur’s imagination, but Merlin’s cheeks seemed to turn a gentle shade of pink. The thought made him suddenly hot and he quickly realized the implications behind the request. “Of course, it would simply be dinner. Just catching up. As friends.” 

“Of course,” Merlin said, nodding stoically, “friends who live in the same castle.”

“Merlin?”

“Shut up?”

“Yeah.”

Arthur watched Merlin grin and then race off down the corridor, only to dash into a doorway and disappear. He frowned and stared after him, the memory of that smile working its way into his mind’s eye. Dinner. Yes. Why? It was just dinner, of course. Nothing special. They weren’t courting, or anything. 

The idea was absolutely absurd. 

~

Dinnertime found Arthur anxiously tapping his fingers on the dining table in his chambers as he awaited his Court Sorcerer. It was late, at a time when most of the castle would have already eaten or even gone to bed, so they would likely have some semblance of privacy. Merlin, as always, however, was running late and Arthur wished he would both hurry up and also maybe not come. For some reason, having dinner with Merlin meant something to him. He wasn’t really sure what, considering they’d had dinner together before (namely Arthur’s last birthday and the evening Arthur asked Merlin to be Court Sorcerer) and that it was just that: dinner. 

Dinner. Yes.

With Merlin. 

Arthur scratched his nail painfully over the surface of the table, drawing a small indent in it. He’d always known he and Merlin had something special, but lately, he couldn’t help feeling as though the universe was playing some cruel trick on him. It was almost like the people were looking to Merlin as their king instead of the one they already had. Though, if Arthur really thought about it, he wasn’t jealous of that. No, if he really, really thought about it, maybe he was just a tiny, teeny, weeny bit jealous that Merlin was spending time with people that weren’t him. But Arthur Pendragon never got jealous, he assured himself, albeit half-heartedly. 

The door suddenly burst open and Arthur jumped, accidentally digging his nail harshly into the table and leaving a crescent-shaped dent he knew Merlin would complain about later. In walked the man in question, beaming as he took in the spread of food before Arthur. 

“Evening,” he said, and his smile made something twitch in Arthur’s chest, “What have you done to get custard tarts?”

“I’m the King of Camelot, Merlin, I don’t have to do anything.”

“Right,” Merlin said, and then snatched one up as he made his way around Arthur. Without even asking, he pulled out the chair to Arthur’s right and plopped down. He was entitled to it, of course; no one in the kingdom had Arthur’s complete trust like Merlin did, and that made Arthur’s heart warm like nothing else.

“So, who all needed your help today?” Arthur asked, reaching for the stuffed turkey. 

“Mostly servants, but I visited the lower town to get some things for Gaius and so many people stopped me. I’m almost starting to wonder if I’ve been spelled to attract people who need help.”

“Or maybe you’ve got a giant sign on your backside.” 

To Arthur’s delight, Merlin’s eyes widened and he twisted around backwards to check if he did, in fact, have some sort of sign on him. 

“Idiot, I’m only joking,” Arthur said, chuckling fondly. 

Merlin stuck his tongue out at Arthur and stabbed at his vegetables as if he were imagining them to be the king. “Did you get up to anything interesting today? Other than making fun of your Court Sorceror?” he added, mockingly.

Arthur let the comment slide. “The council were after me again about marrying.” When Merlin looked confused, Arthur clarified, “You missed it while you were helping that servant girl with her ruined laundry.”

Merlin’s mouth formed a little “o” as he recalled the incident and then looked sheepishly at his plate. “Sorry. I could have said something if I’d been there. That’d be–what, the fifth time in the past two weeks?”

Arthur waved off his apology. “You know they won’t relent until I marry. It’s hopeless at this point; I don’t want to marry one of their princesses who only pats my back and defers to me. That’s not what makes a good partner.”

There was a beat of silence as Merlin digested his words and then he asked slowly, “So...what does make a good partner?”

Something his tone made Arthur glance up, only to see Merlin staring at him rather intently. You, he found himself almost saying and if he weren’t so shocked at his own thought process, his jaw would have visibly dropped. Oh, gods. He wanted Merlin as his partner. Everything made so much more sense now. Oh, dear gods, he was in such deep trouble. 

Arthur snapped out of his thoughts to see Merlin waving a chicken leg in front of him, eyebrows tight with concern. “Arthur? Arthur, are you alright?”

“Yes,” the king said tightly, and then said again in a more calm tone, “Yes. Sorry. I...just realized something. It’s unimportant, though. What were we talking about?”

Merlin’s eyes flitted calculatingly over his face and Arthur wondered for a split second if it was within the realm of Merlin’s capabilities to read minds. But then Merlin shook his head and sighed out, “Partners. What would make a good partner for you?”

“Oh. Erm…” Kind. Charming. Hardworking. Bold. Fantastically witty. Brilliant. Breathtaking. Perfect. “I haven’t really thought about it.” And oh, gods, wasn’t that the fattest lie he’d ever told. Apparently, he’d spent the whole of the last decade doing nothing but thinking about it without even realizing. 

“Arthur.”

“Mmm?”

“Why are you lying to me?”

“I’m not lying.”

“You are!” Merlin frowned at him, squinting. “Your eyebrows are doing that twitchy thing and you’re clenching your jaw.”

Arthur scrubbed a hand over his face. Merlin could read him like an open book because of course he could. “It’s nothing.”

“Your definition of a good partner isn’t what the court wants, is it?”

Ah, yes. Open book.

“Of course it isn’t, but tradition must be upheld,” Arthur replied wearily.

Merlin rolled his eyes like Arthur was some dumb child who hadn’t quite learned the ways of the world. “You don’t have to listen to them. They’re a bunch of stuffy old men in chairs. They’re not your heart.”

Arthur wanted to point out that Merlin was one of those men in chairs and had indeed captured his heart, but refrained. 

A gentle knock at the door forced Arthur to look away from the way Merlin was looking at him, all gentle and kind in the candlelight, and call, “Come in.”

A young serving girl bowed her way into the room and said a hurried, “My Lord,” though to Arthur it sounded a lot like “My Lords,” and he wondered if maybe his hearing was going bad. Surely she wasn’t calling Merlin a lord?

“Catherine, is everything alright?” Merlin asked, sitting up in his seat. Of course he knew this girl by name. It was just so very Merlin of him, and Arthur expected nothing less. 

“The girls are arguing over the preparations for the harvest festival. I was hoping you might could mediate. They seem to listen to you.” 

She seemed desperate for help and Arthur couldn’t begrudge her that. He nodded his head to the door. “Go on, then. We can talk tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?” Merlin asked, but he was already standing up. 

“Yes. Out of my sight, Merlin.”

Merlin snorted and shot him a smile. “Good night, Arthur.”

The words caught Arthur so off guard that he only responded once the door to his chambers shut and he sat staring at the place where Merlin had been, feeling warmth spread through him. 

“Good night, Merlin.”

~

The harvest festival arrived on a beautiful October day, when the air remained fresh and warm and a cool breeze drifted through the citadel. The servants were busy decorating the castle for the many nobles coming to taste the fine bounty of Camelot’s harvest. Unusually this year, however, Arthur had decided to take less from the harvest for the feast and give back to his people. Obviously, Merlin had a hand in that decision, but when was he ever one to ask for credit?

With a lesser harvest in the kitchens, there was less work to be done, leaving Merlin free to be at Arthur’s beck and call. It wasn’t that he was required to do servant duties anymore, but that he liked to roll up his sleeves and punch some bread dough every now and then. But Arthur had to go and request that Merlin follow him around everywhere like some sort of dog, so he begrudgingly accompanied the king on his trips around the castle to survey the preparations. 

It was at Arthur’s side that he chatted with tired servants and that he helped pick the tablecloths for the feast. He shook hands with newly arrived nobles and introduced himself as Court Sorcerer of Camelot, much to their surprise. After a long day of running around the castle, the pair were retreating to Arthur’s chambers to get ready for dinner when Arthur suddenly said, “Merlin,”

Merlin glanced over at him. “Yes?”

“Do you have anything better to wear tonight?”

Merlin frowned down at his clothes. They were comfortable and he’d just recently used magic to fix up the rather large and annoying hole in his jacket. “No?”

“Good. I’ve had some clothes made for you for the feast. They’re in my chambers.”

Merlin’s mouth dropped open and he hurried after Arthur who was now nearing running speed at the pace he was traveling. “Arthur!”

“What?” The king called back and pushed open his chamber doors. 

“You- Why would you-” Merlin stopped short and skidded to a halt. There, on the table, was a set of folded clothes. He couldn’t see what they were, but he did see deep blues and what looked like a flash of silver. “You made me clothes?”

Arthur looked decidedly offended at the choice of words and said tightly, “Had them made. For you. A king doesn’t make things, Merlin.”

“Right. So you had clothes made for me.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Arthur huffed an aggravated sigh and turned to pick up the first article of clothing. It was a deep, night blue jacket, quilted and with little silver stars embroidered into the neckline. Small silver clasps decorated the front and a delicate silver trim lined the seams. “Because, with everyone treating you like someone with authority lately, I figure you should dress the part.”

“Oh,” was all Merlin said before he approached the jacket. It was velvet, and one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen. Arthur held it out to him and he took it, his stupid hands trembling. This was a gift. From Arthur. The first the man had ever given him. “Arthur, I can’t take this.”

Arthur glared at Merlin and then picked up the other articles of clothing to thrust them into his arms. “You can and you will,” he said and all but shoved Merlin to the changing screen. 

Merlin tripped over his own boots and glared at Arthur but did as he insisted. Carefully folded alongside the jacket was a lighter blue tunic that matched his eyes and a pair of crisp black trousers. There was also a new pair of dark leather boots to go with the outfit, which had tiny silver stars at the cuff. He shrugged off his current clothes and fumbled out of his boots and trousers before donning the new clothes. They fit perfectly. Had Arthur measured him while he slept? Or maybe he just knew Merlin’s size? Or, more likely, he had one of the seamstresses guess? Yes, that must be it. Surely Arthur wouldn’t care enough to try and figure out Merlin’s exact size?

When he stepped out from behind the changing screen, Arthur was sitting on his bed, picking at a thread on his tunic. He heard Merlin’s footsteps and quickly stood up, only to freeze when he saw Merlin. 

If Merlin were anyone else, he wouldn’t have noticed the way Arthur’s eyes widened imperceptibly or the way his lips parted slightly or how his arms went limp at his sides. But Merlin was Merlin and he saw those things and smirked to disguise the blush he knew was tainting his cheeks. “Not a peasant anymore, hmm?”

It took a few seconds for the words to register in Arthur’s brain and then he sheepishly glanced down at the floor, before reluctantly looking in Merlin’s eyes. “Perhaps on the outside,” he said and returned Merlin’s smirk. Merlin glared back. 

“Prat. I’m only wearing this because you want me to. If you think my outsides need to match my insides, I’ll gladly chuck these out the window–”

“Don’t you dare,” Arthur said all too quickly, and then added, “The seamstresses worked very hard on those pieces for you.”

“Then I’ll be sure to thank them later,” Merlin said with a grin. He waltzed to Arthur’s wardrobe, conscious of the king’s eyes on his back, and threw open the doors. “I think we should match,” he stated, drawing out a dark blue tunic and turning to hold it over Arthur’s figure.

Arthur scowled over the top of it. “Merlin-” 

“No, no, of course. You can’t look like your peasant sorcerer. My bad.” 

Arthur pointedly ignored that comment. “The harvest festival is an important celebration. I should wear my usual ceremonial chainmail and cape.”

Merlin frowned as if the idea had personally offended him. “You’re the king. Can’t you wear what you want to wear?”

“There are traditions–”

“To hell with traditions!” Merlin cut him off and Arthur blinked in surprise.

“I can’t just change the way we do things around here, Merlin.”

Merlin stuffed the shirt back into the wardrobe and began aggressively rifling through the rest. “This is your time to rule, Arthur.” he said over his shoulder, “This is your kingdom. Change tradition! You don’t have to rule how your father did. You don’t have to make the choices he did.” Merlin pulled an elegant red tunic with gold trim out of the wardrobe and pressed it into Arthur’s hands, along with a leather overcoat. “You can be so much better than any king before you if you just let go of your fear and lead the way you want to lead. No one can begrudge you your happiness.”

And with that, he tucked Arthur’s red cape over the king’s shoulders and swept out of the room. 

~

Arthur wasn’t quite sure what had gotten Merlin so riled up earlier but he dressed in the clothes the warlock gave him, not wanting to draw Merlin’s ire before the evening was over. He sauntered down the hallway to the throne room, greeting guests as he went. There were quite a few people this year, many of whom he had never met, so he’d had Merlin secretly write down their names as they introduced themselves and then he reviewed the list before coming to the feast. 

What stood out to him on the list, however, was the fact that some of the people invited weren't nobles. He recognized a few of the names as people Merlin had mentioned once or twice. They were villagers, like the old woman whose son had been killed and Merlin had promised to attend the funeral. He realized he’d met her earlier, dressed in a simple but finely crafted powder blue dress. He’d just assumed she was a noble and gone about his day. Actually, now that he was looking more closely at the list, at least half of the names were not preceded with a title. He should have been angry, or at least mildly annoyed, but he couldn’t help but feel endeared. No matter how big a show Merlin put on, he did actually enjoy helping people. He was naturally good at it and Arthur saw the way he would enter his chambers at night with dinner, practically vibrating as he retold stories from his day with the common folk. Come to think of it, he would make a rather perfect king. Maybe even better than Arthur. 

He caught a servant on his way to the throne room and asked her where Merlin was. She looked mildly delighted by the question before answering, “He said he’d be in the throne room in about fifteen minutes. I believe he’s currently assisting the maids in the kitchen with last-minute preparations.” 

Arthur frowned at her. “Oh. Thank you.” 

She bowed and quickly bustled away, snickering to herself, but Arthur was too busy wondering why Merlin had gone to the kitchens to notice. Perhaps he’d needed some space after what happened earlier? Not that Arthur had anything to do with it. Or maybe he did. He sometimes was a little slow when it came to matters of the heart.

Shaking the curiosity from his mind, he navigated the rest of the hallways until he arrived at the throne room. It was filled with men and women, nobles and commoners alike, a few remaining servants scattered among them. Orange candlelight combined with the late afternoon sunlight made the room warm and bright, a lovely reflection of a successful harvest. A few heads turned in his direction and he nodded to them, feeling a little off without Merlin at his side. 

He made his way to his seat at the banquet table where Morgana stood. She grinned at him and, somehow sensing his mood, asked, “Where’s your other half?” Arthur blinked at her until she scoffed and said with a pitying look, “Merlin, dear brother. Where is he?” 

Arthur gaped at her before regaining his composure with a shake of his head. Ignoring the “other half” comment, he sighed and said, “Likely punching some bread dough down in the kitchens. I believe I upset him earlier.” 

Morgana gasped theatrically. “Oh, however did you manage that? Far be it for the king of Camelot to nag his hardworking Court Sorcerer.”

Arthur glared at her and beckoned over a servant who was carrying appetizers. He took one and handed another to Morgana who sniffed it primly before popping it in her mouth. “Merlin has somehow gained attention at court and he believes it’s my fault.”

“Everything’s your fault,” Morgana said enthusiastically.

Arthur opened his mouth to snap back with something undoubtedly witty, but all conscious thought left his head when he looked up to see Merlin entering through the open doors of the throne room. He was wearing the new clothes Arthur gave him, but around his shoulders was the most incredible cloak Arthur had ever seen. It looked like gossamer the way it trailed out behind him, almost completely weightless in the air of the throne room. When he stepped through a beam of sunlight crossing the floor, the light struck it in a way that made it – and him – glow in the most beautiful and ethereal way.

As he walked towards Arthur, head held high and smiling brightly, people turned to stare at him and conversation dipped to whispers. Arthur, however, was too stuck staring that he completely missed Morgana’s breathless comment of “Oh, heavens, Arthur, he looks gorgeous!” and Gwaine’s (when had Gwaine gotten here?) low wolf whistle nearly in his ear. 

Fortunately, he managed to pull himself together by the time Leon (how on earth were people sneaking up on him?) asked carefully, “Sire, are you alright?” 

Arthur cleared his throat and turned to the knight, nodding stiffly. “Yes, thank you, Leon. Would you inform the staff that we’re ready for the feast?” Leon glanced quickly between Arthur and an approaching Merlin but smiled knowingly and nodded as he retreated into the crowd. 

It was then that Merlin made his way to Arthur and the king nearly jumped out of his skin when Merlin laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You’re wearing the clothes I picked,” was the first thing he said, and Arthur was grateful it gave him an opening to make a jibe instead of saying something stupid like “you look absolutely gorgeous”. 

“Yes, Merlin, believe it or not, I am actually capable of putting on clothes by myself.” 

Merlin chuckled. “Actually, you’re not.” Disregarding propriety completely, he tugged at the neckline of Arthur’s jacket so that it sat properly on his shoulders and adjusted the way the clasp sat at his neck. Arthur would have berated him for doing so in front of other people if it weren’t for the way Merlin’s touches sent his heart fluttering. He quickly pulled out of Merlin’s grasp, deciding he needed to put distance between them before he simply melted into a puddle on the floor. 

“And what about you? I see you’ve added your own touch to your outfit?”

Merlin grinned and performed a little spin which made his cloak twirl elegantly around his feet. If Arthur didn’t know who he was, he probably would have believed him to be some sort of Druid prince. 

“It’s pure magic,” Merlin said, swishing the cloak around a little bit more. “I’ve been messing with creating stable magical substances and finally got the hang of it last week. Neat, isn’t it?”

It was beyond “neat” but Arthur couldn’t bring himself to say that. Morgana did, though, and butted right into their conversation with a joyous, “Merlin, you look lovely! You have to teach me that spell!”

“Now that I’ve figured it out myself, I bet you’ll have it down in no time, Morgana!” 

Morgana beamed at that and then ran off to go find Gwen so they could discuss Merlin’s outfit as girls were wont to do. In the meantime, Arthur busied himself with watching the servants begin to carry in platters of food so that he didn’t have to think about Merlin’s warm presence at his side. Delicious smells wafted towards him and his mouth watered, his stomach reminding him painfully that he’d skipped lunch in favor of chatting with the nobles. Curse formality. 

When they’d finished, he decided it was high time to start the banquet or he might forgo propriety and shove a whole chicken leg in his mouth. He tapped Merlin on the arm to draw his attention, and then, gripping his goblet, he turned to the room addressed the many people gathered before him. 

“Ladies and gentlemen of the court,” he said to the room at large and voices petered out as they turned to the king, “Friends and old acquaintances, it is my honor to have you feast with us tonight as we celebrate another fruitful harvest. It is my duty, as your king, to rule fairly and kindly, so that we may prosper as a kingdom and as a country. That is why I have made it my mission to no longer let fear keep us from change. Together, we usher in a new era of peace, and together, we seek to change that which has led to suffering.” 

Arthur paused and risked a glance at Merlin, only to freeze when he saw how awed his expression was. It hit him, then, that he’d taken Merlin’s advice without even realizing it. What Merlin had been saying earlier in his chambers – that he had the power to change tradition without fear for the future – it wasn’t just about clothes. It was about their people, about Merlin himself, and about how they could rule, if not as King and Court Sorcerer, but as one. 

“It is my hope that you will join me in a future that is better and brighter for everyone, starting tonight, and starting with our friends within these walls, for it shall no longer be rank that deems a man worthy, but the contents of his heart.” There were a few murmurs among the crowd, but Arthur held his head high. He’d thrown this toast together just before the feast, knowing that there would be backlash, but he had forced himself not to care. If we weren’t doing this for himself, he was doing it for his people, and, most importantly, for Merlin. The man himself was beaming at his king, and if Arthur focused on his face, he could see that Merlin’s eyes were sparkling: with pride or unshed tears, he wasn’t sure.

“If you would kindly join me in a toast,” he glanced pointedly around the room and waited as a few people reached for their goblets, “Tonight, my friends, we celebrate change and a better Camelot for all. To new beginnings and new traditions!” 

A raucous cheer went up from the crowd and Arthur smiled. There were many moments he enjoyed as king but these, seeing his people happy and joyous, these made him the proudest to be their leader. 

The feast began, and Arthur settled into his seat, while Merlin dropped into the chair at his right, as usual. Morgana was chattering away with some of the knights at his left and he rolled his eyes when he heard Gwaine guffawing at something Percival said, already acting drunk though the evening had just started. 

Merlin nudged insistently at his foot under the table and he turned to see Merlin’s eyes over the rim of his goblet. 

“Can’t believe you wrote that speech yourself,” he said teasingly into his water. Merlin never drank alcohol and was constantly getting on to Arthur for indulging too much at banquets. When he’d been Arthur’s manservant, he’d sometimes water down his wine, or even, on some occasions, flat out refuse him the drink.

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, Merlin, but I am quite capable of doing some things.”

“More than capable, according to your people.” He gazed out at the banquet hall but Arthur couldn’t help but stare at his profile instead. “They hold so much respect for you, you know, because you’re such a good king. And now, with all the changes we’re making, so many of them are seeing Camelot in a new light. We’ve welcomed magic and commoners into our walls. Those are big steps and I know they appreciate it.”

Arthur blinked. Merlin praised him fairly often, but he was always floored by how genuine he was about it. Rarely did he throw in an insult as Arthur did; come to think of it, that was probably something he could work on. 

Especially now as he deflected the praise so that he wouldn’t start blushing in front of his people. “Don’t go getting all sappy on me now; the night is still young.”

Merlin scoffed and began attacking his potatoes, a small smile on his face. 

By the time dessert was served, many had begun to walk about and mingle or dance, so Arthur took the opportunity to stretch his legs and dragged Merlin over to greet a few nobles. 

He found Sir Cormac first, an old friend of his father’s, and grinned as they clasped arms. “It’s been a while, Sir Cormac,” he said, and then gestured to Merlin, “I believe you met Merlin earlier?”

To his surprise, Sir Cormac’s face twisted with something akin to disgust, only to reconfigure itself into a mildly convincing smile. “Yes, my Lord. Good to see you again, Merlin.”

“You as well, Sir.”

Arthur glanced at the sorcerer a moment, noting the twinge of discomfort on his features, and frowned at Sir Cormac. “Is everything alright, Sir Cormac? Was the dinner not satisfactory?”

“No, no, the dinner was lovely,” the knight said with a wave of his hand, “Forgive me, Sire, it’s just been a while since I’ve been back it Camelot. I wasn’t aware you had made so many changes since your father’s passing.”

“Ah, I see. My father was a good king, and I am proud to carry on his legacy. I only wish to rule in a way that best serves my people.”

Sir Cormac nodded and his eyes flitted to Merlin a moment before coming back to Arthur. The action made Arthur bristle a little bit and he found himself inching closer to Merlin. He knew this would happen, but he wished Sir Cormac wouldn’t be so passive-aggressive about it; if Merlin’s honor was on the line, he would rather throw down his gauntlet right now and face off.

“I’m sure you do, sire. If you’ll excuse me?”

Arthur nodded and watched the knight walk off, likely to find someone else who shared his views on the way Arthur ruled. 

Merlin laid a hand gently on his arm. “There’s always going to be people like him. It’s going to take a while to change their minds.”

“He probably wanted to run you through with his sword,” Arthur huffed, “He was always adamant about separating the common folk from the nobility, even during my father’s rule.”

Merlin opened his mouth to say something but a throat clearing next to them drew their attention.

Arthur could tell that the man was noble from his neatly trimmed beard and elegantly decorated waistcoat that hugged his stout figure, but he didn’t recognize him; they hadn’t met earlier, so he assumed that he’d perhaps arrived late from a distant kingdom. That said, he was utterly surprised when the man opened his mouth and the first thing that came out was, “A pleasure to meet you, your Majesties.”

Both Arthur and Merlin froze and Arthur felt a hot blush creeping up his face. He definitely wasn’t hearing things this time. And oh, gods, did that sound good. Your Majesties, his brain repeated helpfully, Him and Merlin ruling together, dear gods–

Merlin nudged Arthur, biting his lip and looking as if he wanted to laugh, though his cheeks were a gentle pink. “I’m sorry, my Lord,” he said, slightly strangled, “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Merlin, the king’s Court Sorceror.”

Arthur felt a pang of pity as the man flushed red and began apologizing profusely. “Forgive me, my Lords, I had no idea! Oh, heavens, I’m sorry, I hadn’t meant to assume–”

“It’s quite alright, Lord…”

“Everton,” the man supplied weakly.

“Lord Everton,” Arthur repeated, finally having gotten a grip on himself and his stupid emotions, “No harm done. Unfortunately, I don’t believe you’re the first to make the assumption.

That didn’t do much to assuage Lord Everton’s, guilt, however, because he still looked like he might die of embarrassment. “A thousand apologies nonetheless, my Lord. I only intended to introduce myself and meet you.”

Arthur glanced at Merlin who looked slightly concerned now. “Oh?”

“Yes. My wife and I were hoping to move to Camelot sometime, and when one of my dear friends fell ill and couldn’t come, he gave me his invitation so I could visit your kingdom.”

“I hope we haven’t scared you off?” Arthur said, jokingly, smiling when the man laughed.

“No, my Lord, just the opposite. If I may, your people are the happiest of any kingdom I’ve ever seen.”

Merlin grinned fondly at Arthur and said to Lord Everton, “He doesn’t believe me when I tell him he’s a good king. Maybe you can help me drill it into that thick skull of his.” 

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes. Perhaps we should stick a sign to my forehead, as well?”

“‘World’s Largest Prat,’” Merlin declared, “I think that would do just fine.” 

Lord Everton was snickering at them, and it was only then that Arthur realized how much they acted as though they were married. In fact, Lord Everton probably thought them liars by now.

But the man simply wished them well, and with what looked like a knowing grin, he sauntered away to go chat with the rest of the room. 

~

That night, as Merlin lay in bed, pleasantly tired and warm from the food and the company, he mulled over the events of that evening. Arthur had been acting strange, and he acted even more strange whenever someone brought up how close they were.

Merlin had long since come to terms with the fact that he was in love with Arthur, but hearing it from other people’s lips (well...they were implying it, anyway) made his stomach twist excitedly. He wanted more than anything for people to call him “My Lord” and “Your Majesty” not for the title, but for the meaning behind it. He wanted to be Arthur’s, not just as his manservant or Court Sorcerer, but as his husband, his king. 

Would he be a king, though? Their relationship would be unprecedented; perhaps he’d consult Geoffery. Oh, wait, no, the old man would most definitely judge him for the question and then pry until he spilled the truth. 

No. For now, he could stand not knowing, because the thought that he could one day rule alongside Arthur made every day at his side worth living. 

~

Merlin doesn’t really think anything is truly off until a week after the harvest festival. 

It started with a few respectful nods from servants, which then turned into bows, and then people started holding the door for him. Even nobles, he realized, were paying him much more attention and often spared him a nod as well. Serving girls he had known for years to bustle by without a glance in his direction were now stepping out of his way and curtsying as he passed. He was even prevented from walking down a hallway that had been newly polished and warned that he might injure himself. Before, he would simply be left to his own devices and slip and slide down the hallway (whooping and cheering as he slid into walls, but no one needed to know that) but this time, the two servants fussed over him and walked him back to another hallway so that he could travel safely to his destination. 

The piece de resistance, however, was when Merlin sat down at a council meeting, and all was going well until one of the councilmen addressed him as “Sire.” 

The whole room went immediately quiet, and nervous looks were exchanged around the table. Merlin, on the other hand, felt suddenly sweaty at Arthur’s eyes on him. And then, to his surprise, Arthur barked out a laugh. 

“I…” he stuttered eloquently, much to Arthur’s amusement. 

“Lord Merlin, I do wish you’d informed me of your change in status,” he said delightedly, and then, because apparently, the universe loved to see Merlin suffer, Arthur grasped Merlin’s hand and kissed his knuckles. 

The gesture sent heat spiraling up Merlin’s arm and from then on he was completely useless to the council as all he could think about was Arthur’s lips on his skin.

~

A month later, Merlin found himself on the receiving end of various undeserving titles, ranging from “My Lord” to “Sire” to “Royal Prat” (that was Arthur’s, for when the mood struck him and he felt like watching Merlin squirm). Merlin was mostly used to it now, especially considering no one was doing anything about it. He’d stopped correcting people and instead was appreciating the fact that he was now receiving a little more recognition for not only his efforts but his opinions. People already held him in high regard, but finally having a title was the cherry on the cake, even if it wasn’t official. 

One day in particular, however, things changed. Merlin was putzing around the throne room, chatting with councilors while he awaited Arthur so that they could discuss some issues with one of the neighboring kingdoms. In the time since the harvest festival, Arthur had commissioned a new wardrobe to be made for Merlin, and now that the weather had gotten colder, he was truly grateful for it. He usually wore his blue jacket, but today he’d thrown on his black leather vest and donned his blue cloak that bore the gold Pendragon insignia on the shoulder. He looked every bit the royal that people thought he was. 

A great clamoring startled Merlin away from the councilman he was talking to, and he turned just in time to see a man throw open the throne room doors and then be wrestled to a stop by a pair of guards. 

“What’s going on?” Merlin demanded, feeling his magic bristle. If this was an attack on Camelot, he was more than ready. 

“He was persistent, Sire, we couldn’t stop him.” One of the guards grunted, attempting to force the man to his knees. 

“Please!” the man cried, flailing out of the guard’s grip. Somehow he managed to escape and collapsed on the floor, kneeling before Merlin, who looked on in alarm. “Please, I’m begging you!” he shouted, “My family: they’re all dying! We have no food, our water is unsafe to drink; our village will not survive the winter! The king will do nothing– We need Camelot’s aid–!” A guard jerked him to standing and he fought a moment before going limp, tears streaming down his dirty face. “Please, my king….”

At that, Merlin’s eyes widened and he descended the dais, his long blue cape flowing behind him. “Release him,” he commanded the guards and they did, letting the man crumple to the ground. He knelt before the man, who quivered in fear and whimpered. “Don’t be afraid,” he said gently, “no harm will come to you in Camelot.” 

The man visibly relaxed and eased himself to his knees. “Thank you, my lord.”

Merlin smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I wish to help your kingdom and your village, but I must tell you: I’m not the king.”

“Sire?” the man said, looking for all the world confused out of his mind.

Merlin shook his head. “I’m no noble, either. My name is Merlin, but I have the ear of King Arthur and I will do everything I can to grant you his help.”

“He is certainly no noble, but he is my other half.” The loud voice startled Merlin out of his kneeling position and he accidentally braced himself too hard on the (now increasingly concerned) man in front of him. They flailed around a bit before turning to see Arthur approaching, his kingly attire radiant in the sunlight pouring in through the windows. The councilman gathered in the throne room gasped a little bit at the way he addressed Merlin, but Merlin was too distracted by the king’s glowing appearance to pay much attention. “Merlin,” Arthur greeted with a smile and a nod and then turned to the man who gaped up at him. “You have my attention, good sir. Please continue.”

While Arthur and the peasant man talked, Merlin stepped to Arthur’s side, reeling from what he had said. The words “two sides of the same coin” echoed through his mind like a chant, alternately between a chorus of “my other half”. Arthur couldn’t mean anything more than that, right? They were simply fulfilling their destiny, Arthur ruling Camelot with Merlin at his side. It wasn’t anything more. Was it?

As he was wont to do, Arthur dragged Merlin back into the discussion, and before long they had a fleshed-out plan that involved quite a lot of gathering of supplies and a generous amount of men allotted for its transportation. But they were happy with their decision, and the man had grasped both their hands and kissed their knuckles in thanks before being escorted to a room for the night. Merlin felt his heart flutter and warm with pride as the throne room emptied, watching the doors close on the retreating figures and leaving the king and sorcerer standing alone.

“Thank you,” he said to Arthur, who had also been staring at the doors and turned his head to look at him. 

“For what?” he asked, but the gentle twitch of his lips told Merlin he already knew. 

“For changing tradition. For being the good king you were meant to be.”

“I’m not a good king.”

“No, you’re right.” Merlin said seriously, and when Arthur frowned, he smiled and added, “You’re a great one.”

At that, Arthur’s eyes widened, and he looked down at his boots in a gesture of surprising shyness. He was silent a moment before he whispered, “If I’m being honest, I think I’m only a great king because of you.”

“Because of me?”

“Yes, Merlin.” Arthur rolled his eyes, the shyness dripping away like water in favor of his usual teasing air. “You’ve changed me. You and your incessant prattle and stupid neckerchiefs and infuriating complaining–”

“Oi!” Merlin yelped and swatted him but he was smiling, “That was a perfect time for a compliment. Dumb prat–”

“You should know by now I don’t do compliments.” 

“Of course not, because you could never stand to let someone believe they’re better than you.”

“That is not true!”

“Mmm, pride isn’t a good color on you, my lord.”

Arthur scoffed and nudged his shoulder with his own and Merlin eagerly nudged back. They entertained a silent shoulder bumping fight for a minute until eventually they gave up and simply leaned against the other. 

This. This was nice. Being just the two of them, alone, Merlin could almost imagine a life with Arthur as...something more. What the village man had said earlier– he’d called Merlin a king. And didn’t that have a nice ring to it? Arthur did say Merlin was his other half…. Could they both be kings? 

Merlin was pulled from his thoughts by Arthur’s warm breath on his face. Their shoulders were still touching, but Merlin had begun leaning his head towards Arthur’s and hadn’t realized how close he was until Arthur turned to look at Merlin. From this close, Merlin could count each of Arthur’s eyelashes, could see the warmth to his cheeks that–was Arthur blushing? 

Arthur suddenly cleared his throat and said, somewhat strangled, “You know you don't have to call me ‘my lord’.”

Merlin blinked. “What?”

“Earlier,” Arthur began, a little more put together, “you did. I understand titles mean nothing to you, but I’ve never expected you to use mine. You don’t have to.”

“Why?” Merlin asked, perhaps dumbly, but he genuinely could not think of a reason not to. “I’m not even a noble. I’m still technically a servant.”

For some reason, Arthur’s cheeks turned a darker shade of red and Merlin would have checked Arthur’s forehead if he wasn’t so thrown off by the way the king was studying him so intensely. “You’ve never been just a servant to me, Merlin. You’re my best friend. As far as council goes, you outrank every one of my councilmen. I’d trust you with my kingdom if it came down to it.”

That sent Merlin’s stomach fluttering. Arthur was basically saying if need be, he would name Merlin his successor. While it wasn’t unlikely for a king to place his kingdom in trusted hands, Arthur should be passing on the kingdom to his child or a noble at the very least. Suddenly, Merlin felt the enormity of the confession rest on his shoulders, like he imagined Arthur felt every time he wore his crown. To rule a kingdom….that was a lot to ask of someone and a decision that required complete and utmost trust. They were joined by destiny, yes, but destiny wouldn’t make him a good king. Destiny wouldn’t force Arthur to trust him in this way. Merlin bit his lip, considering, and then finally voiced a question that had been plaguing him since Arthur entered the throne room moments ago. “You...you said I was your other half, earlier. But, erm, you meant the prophecy, right?”

Arthur met his eyes, but his gaze wandered away, only reluctantly coming back to him after he’d done a full survey of the throne room. “Not just that.” He huffed out a breath and then, to Merlin’s surprise, reached for one of his hands. Sweaty fingers clamped around his right hand and a gentle thumb absently traced a line of his palm. “You complete me in a way no one ever could. I can’t explain it, but our….bond….it’s not just destiny.”

Merlin’s heart sputtered and then began racing. Not just destiny. So Arthur felt it too? “You-You mean…?”

“Gods, Merlin, you’re gonna make me say it, aren’t you?” Arthur breathed. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and he squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, they were sparkling and earnest and so, so beautiful. “I love you, Merlin,” he whispered, “You’re not just my other half, but my entire world.”

The hand on Merlin’s slid up his arm and then reached to cup his cheek. His lips parted in a silent gasp as Arthur opened his mouth to continue, but no words came out. Time stopped as they stared into each other’s eyes, and then finally, finally, Arthur leaned forward and pressed his lips to Merlin’s. Merlin immediately reached for him, his arms twining around Arthur’s waist as the king gripped Merlin’s face, his thumbs stroking over his cheekbones. He felt a single tear slide down Arthur’s face and settle around their connected lips but he couldn’t pull away, he wouldn’t pull away, not for the world. Arthur was warmth and strength and comfort as he kissed Merlin, and Merlin couldn’t help but feel weak that he was on the receiving end of such blatant devotion, poured out through every movement of Arthur’s fingers on him and every gentle caress of his lips on Merlin’s own. 

When they broke apart and stared into each other’s eyes, it felt like coming home, like opening a gate and seeing familiarity greet you with open arms. A sparkling tear track decorated Arthur’s cheek but Merlin swiped it away, wanting to see only the shine of Arthur’s blue eyes for the rest of his life. 

“I love you, too,” Merlin whispered, and Arthur choked on a wet laugh, smiling as brightly as the joy radiating from him. “I’ve loved you for so long, Arthur, and I want nothing more than to be by your side for the rest of my life.”

Arthur’s hands trailed down Merlin’s sides and he leaned forward to press their foreheads together. “Be my king, then. I’ve seen how you would rule this kingdom and I want you ruling with me, as my equal.”

Despite the circumstances, Merlin couldn’t help but chuckle and leaned forward to press a kiss to Arthur’s nose. “I think there’s normally courting before the proposal, my king.”

Arthur let out another laugh and kissed Merlin on the lips. “Fortunately, I’m willing to skip that tradition. After all the time we’ve spent together, I think I know you better than I know myself.”

“Really? Then what do you think I’d say to a real proposal?”

Arthur leaned against him for a moment before pulling away. Merlin immediately mourned the loss of his presence and grabbed for him, but his hand flew to his mouth when he saw Arthur settling to one knee, a hesitant smile on his face.

“Arthur, I didn’t mean–”

“Merlin of Ealdor,” Arthur cut him off, “The Last Dragonlord, my Court Sorcerer, the other side of my coin, my other half,” he took Merlin’s hand in his own, “We’ve been together through so much. We’ve suffered together, we’ve fought together, we’ve lived together, and never once have you failed me. Never once have you been anything less than the most valuable person in my life. You are my soulmate, and a treasure greater than anyone could offer. No day is worth living without you at my side.”

Merlin was crying now, cursing his emotional self for reacting like this as Arthur stood to pull Merlin towards him, earnestly staring into his eyes. “Merlin, my once and future love, would you do me the honor of being my king?”

“Yes! Gods, you stupid prat, I love you so much–” 

This time they kissed eagerly, the world melting away as the feeling of loving the other brought with it the joy of familiarity, of deeply-rooted and buried love being pulled to the surface by tender fingers, and old hopes were filled with new promises, of a future they could build together. 

Arthur pressed one long kiss to Merlin’s lips, looking happier than he ever had in his life. He drew in a quiet breath and then, in a whisper so gentle it made Merlin’s heart stop, he said, 

“I love you, my king.”

**Author's Note:**

> yeah the ending was rushed and yeah I got carried away, but what can you do? i love these boys and their stupid dancing around each other so marriage proposal it is <3


End file.
